Now we are three!

This blog has just passed its third anniversary and I thought I'd have a look at the statistics to see where we're now at.

As it says on the cover my idea was to cover everything about boats, more or less in Scotland and it's interesting that there's been a lot of interest from outside our little, perhaps soon to be free, country. In this context it's fascinating to note that there has been an avalanche of hits from Poland on the post I wrote about Don Roberto, which I guess is due to the current interest in Scottish independence. Recently there has been an increase in hits from Spain, I suspect for the same reason.

This being post number 156 means that I've managed an average of one per week throughout. Pageviews are nudging 150,000 to date, about 1,000 per week. Not bad for a non-monetary blog that will not carry commercial advertising.

Recently I've been heavily involved in skiffing and so had less time for research, so there haven't been so many historical posts as earlier. If you're new here please have a look at some of the earlier posts, such as the very first one The Scottie which are I hope still worth reading. One of my favourites is about St Abbs, the little port that had a huge impact on the young me.

Apart from needing to feed a writing habit the main reward from this blog has been the feedback via comments and private emails, resulting in a lot of data being preserved. So, if you have anything to do with boats that you want to share, please let me know.

The image at the top is from a new series of works by Paul Kennedy, prints of which will be available soon. 

Post No 100, time for a party

There are now 100 posts here, ranging from short demented jottings to my attempts to record some serious bits of boating and yachting history, anecdotes and other stuff that shouldn't be allowed to disappear. I'm going to have a wee party, with some nice  lemonade and orange biscuits straight from the stove, in tune with the music from newly health-conscious Scotland (update - the recipe can be found below among the comments).

For anyone who started visiting here recently I should point out that most of my efforts are not time-specific and some of the more useful historical pieces appear early on, such as the Juni expedition and the story of the Ralli II, although I've also recorded events that seemed significant as they occurred, such as the stranding of the HMS Astute, surely now one of the most unlucky and certainly the most inappropriately named ship in the Royal Navy of all time (astute- shrewd, sagacious, wily). Personally I hate these things and think that the World would be a better place if they all got stuck, but preferably not in the Kyles. As for aircraft carriers with or without planes for them, don't start me.

Thinking about names reminds me of my late dear friend John Gardner explaining the origin of La Belle Poule. Apparently there was a tradition in the French navy to allow the commander of a new ship to supply her name and in this case he had provided "La Belle Pauline" after his wife, but something went wrong with Admiralty communications and the result had rather a special meaning around the coastal towns.

John Gardner has inspired a lot of what I've posted here and his images have resulted in numerous hits. I intend to do what I can to keep his memory alive and share his images. Being of a generous disposition his family do not seek compensation for the non-commercial use of his images, but if anyone who appreciates his work would like to send me a message I'll pass it on.

Blogging is an odd activity, which of course no-one had heard of until recently. Indeed I remember when I got the first computer in my office back in 1985, a huge ugly expensive box of tricks installed by so-called experts, but who in a previous incarnation would have sold second-hand cars or insurance policies. My old secretary was sure that the lines of gaudy green text glaring out at her like messages from Outer Space would affect her fertility (she was then about fifty and unmarried) so she turned the screen towards the window and continued touch-typing as before, with interesting results. I never imagined for an instant that we were seeing the start of perhaps the greatest development in letters since 1450.

Herr Gutenberg

Scottishboating started as a spin-off from my scottishislandsclass blog, which in turn was started to record the history of those lovely yachts with the general intention to produce a book in due course, which is still an ambition. It's grown to produce a nice little cyber-community with 35 followers and about 41,000 page views to date. I'm sufficiently realistic to understand that most of them probably come here by mistake, but there's a good solid nucleus of readers who sometimes email me with information, occasional guest posts or just encouragement, so I'll keep going.

better with a little dark chocolate

Now I'm off to the party. Cheers!

Some Thoughts on Model Boats

8 metre yacht Fulmar, photo Gisela Scharbaum

The models made by Gisela and Helmut Scharbaum are virtually perfect reproductions of the originals, evidence of a search for authenticity which eventually led them to build the 1:1 model of Tringa featured in my last post.

But their models are more than this. Apart from representing the prototype in all respects these incredible creations are also meant to sail. It seems to me that this inevitably leads the Scharbaums into areas of technical difficulty which lesser mortals would do well to avoid.

Firstly there are problems of scale. At anything smaller than full size the exact scale model will inevitably lack sufficient displacement to carry her full canvas. In other words what is a nice Force Three breeze to the full sized ship becomes a terrifying Force Six or Seven for her quarter or sixth scale model sister. It seems a pity to have to limit one's sailing of the model to days of gentle winds (are there any anymore?) or to have to devise a way of reefing down.

Secondly there are problems associated with keeping water out of the lovely open cockpits of these models and keeping the radio control equipment, batteries and servos dry.

For these reasons most conventional model-builders go down one of two distinct routes, building either full or half models for display or working models for sailing. However one also shouldn't lose sight of the original purpose for which ship models were built, to assist with the design process.

The earliest builders of full-sized vessels would start by carving a model out of solid. Once a shape acceptable to builder and client had been produced it would be sawn apart crosswise to produce sections, which would then be scaled up to produce the shape of the building moulds. Even in the computer age models still feature large in the design process, as the dynamics and variables involved when a hull passes through water at various angles of heel are far too complex for predictive modelling. Tank testing was first developed by the English mathematical genius William Froude, who persuaded the Admiralty to build the first one in 1871. Dennys of Dumbarton were impressed and built the first commercial tank in the world on the Clyde in 1883. Today tank testing is in use world-wide and the makers of the finest models in the United Kingdom are probably R F H Pierce & Associates of the Lake District. There is a fascinating insight into their thought processes and working methods here:-
www.jewelofmuscat.tv

Richard Pierce and his son James have occasionally built full-size yachts and sailing dinghies to order. After Richard completed the replica Scottish Islander Shona his client requested a display model for his house and James produced a first, "practice" one and a second, final version. Here is a photograph of the first one, which I took on a visit to Windermere before she was rigged.

Scotland's leading builder of static display models is undoubtedly David Spy, whose efforts are displayed world-wide. Here is his eight metre Anitra:-

David's website can be accessed here:- http://yachtmodels.co.uk/

Alongside these renowned experts I hesitate to portray my own efforts, which have been graced with enthusiasm rather than skill. I recently completed a six metre for radio control and it's been interesting to find that she actually floats. She's a John Lewis "Tern" design if anyone is interested.

The Wee Giff only took about thirteen years to build, off and on, and was completed with fittings from the English guru Graham Bantock, whose website can be found here:- http://www.sailsetc.com/

 

 

 

 

John Gardner's Quincy Skiff

The late John Gardner of Mystic Seaport was apparently unable to pursue a teaching career on graduating from Columbia because of his political views, but formal education's loss was a great boon to the wooden boat community. Very few people combine practical ability with good writing skills, but his books on building classic small boats are so clear and inspirational that each chapter seems to cry out "please build me".

So I found myself while building the Swampscott dory in Volume one devouring the other chapters and wondering which would shout the loudest. In the event the modified Quincy skiff won out and became my next project. At the start of the chapter on her the Guru writes that she

“should row well, but build easily and cheaply. This is not a racing shell, obviously, nor is it intended for the open sea. This simple skiff should do well on lakes, large rivers, and sheltered waters along the coast.”

There were aspects of the construction that seemed particularly intriguing. She has an almost flat bottom formed from four softwood planks spliced together, two per side, to form chine logs that will be cross-planked over later.

Once cut to shape, the logs are set upside down on horses positioned at a convenient height, then suitably bevelled, and the transom and stem are added. Next the enormous plywood sides, over eighteen feet long and each needing two scarfs, are tortured into shape.

The book didn't actually say how difficult it would be to do that last bit, nor did it point out that a dry fit usually goes rather better than the real thing. I did this build single-handed and could have done with a helper to control the plywood sides, sticky and slimy with glue, as they slithered around on the temporary building moulds. Bringing the sides together was a real struggle, as I had decided to add both at once, in order to balance out the inevitable stresses on the jig. For a while this caused me a real panic, until I decided to screw battens to the plywood sides to get a proper grip on them. The battens could then be subjected to a lot of force with Spanish windlasses.

Fortunately I wasn't using a fast-hardening glue, and I eventually managed to close the gaping spaces at the bow at the expense of a lot of cursing and badly blistered and glued hands. After this planking the bottom and adding the seats was pretty simple.

The result was a stylish and very unusual rowing boat. The only problem was that we don't live on a lake or large river, nor is our coast all that sheltered. Perhaps I had skipped over that first paragraph in my eagerness to get building. With her flat bottom and long slab sides this skiff is no boat for a cross wind of any strength, or a seaway. In a calm she's a delight to row and my wife still recalls the trip we had one very crisp and sunny New Year's day, travelling effortlessly over four miles down our loch and back.

Because calm days don't happen often in our part of the world the skiff passed fairly soon into the hands of friends who did live beside a sheltered loch, whose sons got great use out of her. They are now grown men and the family have moved on, but the skiff is still on the lochside, more than twenty years later and reasonably serviceable, although some of her bottom cross-planks have been replaced from time to time.

Update on 2 November 2011

Dave Gentry has kindly allowed me to share some photos he took of this Quincy skiff doing good service in the catering trade. He has a fascinating collection of designs on his own website, here:- http://www.GentryCustomBoats.com

Swampscott Dory

 

"Dories have long been recognized as fine seaboats, but their low initial stability and active response to wave action is apt to be disconcerting to the sailor unaccustomed to dories."


The late John Gardner of Mystic Seaport combined a massive understanding of the history and practicalities of small boat design and construction with an ability to write lucid and interesting prose to guide the novice through his or her first few projects.


When I got a copy of "Building Classic Small Craft" about twenty five years ago I had just completed the Joel White Nutshell, about which I have already enthused - here- and was ready for a larger project. The book was a treasure chest of interesting shapes and romantic histories, evocative of the coast of Maine in its transition from a series of traditional fishing ports to a holiday destination, conjuring up the spirit of Winslow Homer.

 

Here were fully detailed drawings of everything from planks to spars and sails, with simple instructions and words of encouragement. Long evenings were spent agonising over which of these evocative craft should grace the shores of Loch Melfort. 

There were a number of factors in the choice of the Swampscott dory as my next build. The shape was enticing, a lovely curve to the stem and an extreme "tombstone" stern, plus an utterly insane leg o' mutton mainsail and tiny jib set on an unstayed mast. I read that if you saw a line squall coming up you could throw the whole rig overboard in an instant and the boat would ride to it on her mainsheet like a sea anchor. That transom could never take an outboard, so rowability was a major factor.

Dories evolved in ancient history when wide flexible planks of cedar or pine were available, many presumably coming form old-growth forests long since destroyed. Plywood is of course an excellent modern alternative, stable and capable of providing a watertight glued structure.  Also there weren't too many planks to cut, unlike some of the other lovely designs in the book.

Like most amateur projects my dory was massively over-built. The hull planking came from 9mm marine ply, sourced from an ordinary builder's merchants, put together upside down over a temporary strong back set into the frames. The latter were cut off to length in due course and remained in the finished boat.

To get the sixteen foot length most of the planks had two scarfs.

I hadn't learned the delights of epoxy and glued the lands together with a polyurethane glue that went off in contact with moisture, not a problem in Argyll, but a plant spray was useful in occasional dry days. I didn't entirely trust the glue and added hundreds of copper nails as well, quite unnecessarily.

Don't paint the inside this colour - it attracts dung beetles

End of shed unbolted to get her out - it never recovered

The plank dimensions in the book were accurate and everything went together pretty well. My one gripe with these old American designs is with the profiles of centreboards and rudders. We now know that a good hydrofoil shape will make a world of difference to the performance of any vessel through the water and while there's an historical argument for keeping the traditional slab shape there's also a lot to be said for improving performance when it can easily be achieved. Here is the board, as drawn, just after I had cast in the required lead to make it sink.

In the Spring of 1988 the dory Anne, named after an understanding wife, took the water.

During the build process I had dreams of the result being an ideal boat for messing about, perhaps evening sails with a few friends, one in the bow with the case of beer passing refreshments down the line as required. Homer had after all got five boys aboard his admittedly slightly larger craft. But the dory turned out to be no picnic boat. Neither wife nor dog showed any great enthusiasm for going out in what was in reality quite a racy machine.

Dory and Nutshell

I found that I was mainly taking the dory Anne out on my own, which gave me a good sense of her qualities. One was her extreme sensitivity to weight distribution. Any movement forward would bring her sharply into the wind, so I changed the steering by removing the tiller and substituting a yoke with lines leading round the boat, enabling her to be controlled from anywhere.

The new Commander

Eventually dory Anne found a new owner, younger and fitter than I and with friends willing to experience the excitement of a hull that heals just so far, the rail exactly on the water, but that is almost impossible to push further. Under her new commander she made frequent explorations down the loch, invariably bringing her new crew home safe and well, if a little wet. I don't think the experience was unique, because when John Gardner's Volume Two came out there were drawings for wider, improved version. The quotation above comes from there.

From a construction point of view the dory lasted well. She endured many years of minimal maintenance and is still around somewhere, but I don't know where. She has been through a number of changes of ownership, generally and as far as I know has never been sold.

Classics again - therapy please

A modern classic?

I admit that in the past I've suffered from it myself in the past, but I'm pleased to report that I'm nearly cured. I mean of course speculating about what is or is not a classic boat.

Every now and again a thread is started on a forum somewhere and the old craving to take part nags away, like the reformed nicotinic's inner compulsion to light up. Currently one is running on Classic Boat here and I'm trying to resist.

Matters aren't helped very much by the availability of magazines with names like Classic Boat, organisations like the Freundeskreis Klassiche Yachten and the British Classic Yacht Club and at this time of year events all over the place with that word in their name. Dammit, next week Stroma and I are off to the Crinan Classics.

Many years ago, before I was cured, I was involved a bit in the nascent European Classic Yacht Union and travelled great distances for meetings, where defining a classic became a major topic for debate. I became convinced that everyone regards his or her own ship, or the one he or she aspires to own, as a classic. Consciously or not we try to broaden the category to suit our subjective taste and exclude ships we simply don't like, or those made from materials we don't like.

My late friend, sometime mentor and gentle eccentric David Ryder-Turner provided a thoughtful piece on the subject for the Freundeskreis, which can be read here. He may have intended it to be the last word on the subject, but predictably it started yet another thread running. David was a Fife addict with a love of long overhangs and it shows in his article, despite his obvious struggle to be fair and objective.

British Classic Yacht Club also share the enthusiasm for long overhangs and it's easy to overlook that they were regarded as ugly when they arrived on the scene. They're not all that practical either, as they usually don't achieve their intended aim of extending by very much the immersed length of the hull. Personally I find some of the state-of-the-art racing machines attractive as having genuine functional beauty.

It's a lot easier to say what isn't relevant to being classic. Authenticity certainly hasn't got anything to do with it, because surely an incredible design from the past could be regarded as classic even if the actual ship didn't exist any more.  Whether a particular object is original, a rebuild, a restoration or a replica is only really of interest to those who regard these objects, like Barnato's Bentley, as investments rather than  aesthetically.

Easiest of all is just not to get involved in the discussion and to spend one's time doing something useful. I'm off to put some varnish on the toerails and if that doesn't work it'll have to be therapy.

Glasgow Museum of Transport opens

Transport Museum by Paul Kennedy

Today sees the opening of Glasgow's new Transport Museum, housed in an utterly astonishing building designed by Zaha Hadid and built right in the heart of where ship-building on the upper Clyde started. It's more or less where Messrs D & W Henderson constructed gigantic racing yachts to designs of George Lennox Watson for characters such as Kaiser Bill and his uncle and sparring partner the Prince of Wales, about which I've already written here.

In common with many other Glaswegians I was introduced to the ship-models at Kelvingrove as a child and they soon became a weekend pilgrimage. I suffered real withdrawal symptoms when most of them later went into storage, there being insufficient space in the old transport museum. From the elegant creations of Watson and the Fifes to the battleships and liners of John Brown's they were an inspiring demonstration of the range of design and building skills to be found in and around the city in its industrial incarnation. It will be good to meet these old friends again, once the opening crowds have died down a bit.

The building is a huge shiny organic thing that snakes about on the banks of the river, perhaps like a metamorphosis of a few industrial sheds that have fused and twisted themselves together under some cosmic influence. It provides a perfect setting for the city's tall ship, the Glenlee, which together with the Waverley is virtually the last of our heritage still floating.

The Glenlee passes Ailsa Craig, by John Gardner

Like virtually all of Glasgow's municipal attractions the new museum is free. If there were no other this would be a good reason to visit the city. Details of the museum can be found here.

The Waverley passes down river, image by Paul Kennedy

Sailing to Arinagour

 

In July 1978 Peter and I were at the end of a wet fortnight aboard Stroma, much of which had been spent storm-bound in Mallaig. We had finally left and drifted South, more with the tide than the wind, in a dreich grey day of the sort that makes you wonder why you ever took up sailing. The intention was that if the weather picked up we would sail back to our mooring in Oban via the outside of Mull, such is the optimism of the young. In the event progress was so slow that by early afternoon we were only at the South end of Eigg. As the tide would now set against us it was an easy decision to stop there and spend the rest of the day trying to catch our supper.

We anchored in about two fathoms inside the island that protects the bay. Our efforts at fishing were just as pathetic as our day's sail had been. The fish that swam about under our keel were so small that they had no difficulty in nibbling the bait from our hooks without any risk to themselves. After a walk ashore, when we discovered that at that time there seemed to be no facilities whatsoever on Eigg we turned in for an early night.

At about five in the morning I was woken by Stroma rolling on an Atlantic swell which seemed to be setting in. I took a look out and noticed that there had been a definite change in the weather. We now had a very clear dry summer morning and there was a breeze. By this time Peter was also awake and after some discussion he agreed to assist with getting the anchor and setting sail, provided he could  then return to his bunk to complete his night's repose.

Thus at about 5.45 am Stroma was underway. We slipped out Southwards from the bay and were soon on a close reach in a sparkling fresh Northwesterly breeze. I was pleased that I was alone in the cockpit and could treat the beautiful morning as my very own. Actually I was sharing it with various seabirds and the occasional fishing boat could be spotted far off when we rose on the swell.
           
The Islanders are wonderful boats on a reach, when you really feel the power of the mainsail. Soon Coll started to appear on the horizon and then we were in flatter water as we sailed down the East side of the island to Arinagour.

If you are engineless it is always better to pick a safe spot to anchor where you won't require to get underway during the night. I was glad that Peter was now awake as we had some tight tacking to get into the chosen spot some distance from the steamer pier. By nine thirty we were anchored and ready to spend the rest of a lovely summer day ashore.

After a third of a century Peter is still willing to come sailing with me, but now his son Ken also comes along. You can read about more of our excursions here and here
      
      
 

First storm of 2011

 

We were warned, at least those of us who followed the Met Office, which correctly predicted a tight low pressure system on Monday, although I suspect that they underestimated the wind speeds we actually got. Even that vapid child on the telly warned that it would be windy, if you could make out what she was saying. I got the Kelpie and Peigi safely onto dry land and checked that everything aboard Stroma was secure.

It started blowing on Saturday, a very brisk and ominous Southerly. It's a time for Spring breaks and a few boats went off, one returning after an hour or so. Sunday continued in the same vein, then on Monday morning it struck. Straight out of the South west and almost unobstructed came a wind of incredible force, raising a blanket of foam a couple of metres high. It was difficult to walk in the prevailing wind, which was, I guess, well over gale force. The gusts were another thing again.

 The first couple of yachts came ashore at Fearnach in the late morning, being joined by three more as the day progressed. The roads around here were quickly blocked as trees laden with new foliage came down. We're in neap tides just now, but it didn't matter as the tide didn't actually go out, giving rise to fears that the evening high would cause flooding.

The marinas at Ardfern and Craobh Haven were directly in the line of fire, but spared the terrible swell that started to come in at Fearnach. In our little corner at Loch na Cille the boats were spared the worst of it, as by the time the wind backed West much of the force had gone and everything stayed afloat.

This Tuesday morning the wind is down to force six with showers of hail and we believe that the electricity, which went off when some poles came down yesterday, may come back on by this evening.

So far this year after fifty days afloat we've managed two short sails. Much more of this and I may take up gardening (only joking).